


Disintegration

by corvus_corvus



Category: Bleach
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, Introspection, Kurosaki Ichigo-centric, Maybe a little adulterous because Ichigo doesn’t love his wife, No Orihime bashing, barely nsfw, but nothing actually happens either?, unfullfilled ichiruki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 12:36:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13434864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvus_corvus/pseuds/corvus_corvus
Summary: He was an insomniac before, but he is truly sleepless now, paralyzed by thoughts on this reality and the burning fear that his dreams will bring images of her.





	Disintegration

He cries often now.

Even when he was facing forces strong enough to obliterate dimensions, held up by his neck over people he failed to save, he hadn’t cried, not like this. He was younger then, had hope for a better future, had a warrior goddess of death beside him.

Ichigo lays on the bed he shares with his wife, awake at all hours of the night. He was an insomniac before, but he is truly sleepless now, paralyzed by thoughts on this reality and the burning fear that his dreams will bring images of her. That these dreams will bleed their way into the waking world if he utters her name in his sleep or wakes crying. If either of these things happen, he knows he will face gentle, well-meaning questions from a gentle, well-meaning woman. And no matter what, he cannot answer them.

Many nights he argues with himself. “Why don’t you love Orihime?” He asks himself this more than he would like to admit. “She is kind, thoughtful, willing to sacrifice herself for others. She is a good person. She has always tried to have my back.” Arguing with himself means internal dialogue between me, myself, and I. And for Ichigo those three pronouns have long aligned to three different voices. 

“She has always tried to have your back,” the echoing voice that comes from between white lips and rolls off a black tongue replies. “She has failed just as many times. Maybe it wouldn’t matter so much if there wasn’t someone more reliable,” Ichigo hears the cruel grin unfurl, “Maybe if there wasn’t someone so much stronger, physically and emotionally-”

The voice is cut off by a deeper, more guarded one. “You are being unfair,” this voice used to boom between skyscrapers rather than be faced with the muffled, underwater interference Ichigo hears now, “yet I can’t help but agree.” 

“But there’s nothing wrong with her,” Ichigo cries out desperately, trying to combat a traitorous soul. “She is good. She is a good person. Why can’t I just love her?”

Ichigo hears a snarl and the beginning of a vicious retort, but it is interrupted by the serious voice again. He feels a sense of defeat overtake his soul more completely than it ever has before. Even violent anger he is used to feeling radiate from those yellow eyes, the anger he knows is used to cover pain and suffering, dissipates. 

“I do not think it works that way, Ichigo.”

He avoids sex with her as much as possible, and thankfully there are many legitimate excuses surrounding the child they are both responsible for. But when it is unavoidable without shattering the fragile connection they have built and they fall into bed, things are worse than ever. To keep from crying, Ichigo imagines shoulder-length dark hair over long orange locks. Every time Orihime cries out, he hears it an octave lower. And for all of Orihime’s beautiful curves, lusted after by numerous others, Ichigo can’t hold himself together if he doesn’t imagine subtle hips in their place. And even worse, Ichigo knows that to hold up the illusion, to keep her from asking questions he has to cum. But he can’t cum without thinking of dark eyes that used to stare into his soul, that slipped between his ribs and made a home in his heart. 

And her name. 

Her name is in his mind, carved deeply into his soul, sits at the bottom of his throat, choking him as he struggles to hold it back from making its way into the open air. In these moments, he is afraid.

But when it is over and Ichigo can look at Orihime as herself and a potential crisis is averted once more. 

Tonight he is working through a problem with all the tenacity and single-minded focus he was once known for. He read somewhere that repeating things helps strengthen the connections between those neurons, and that creating those stronger neural pathways can help you believe what it is you are repeating. It’s a kind of fake-it-til-you-make-it technique, but it’s the best he can come up with, so Ichigo lies awake every night repeating two things:

I love Inoue Orihime.

I hate Kuchiki Rukia. (I hate her. I hate her. I hate her with all my heart.)

Ichigo cries. He hopes one day he can believe both.


End file.
